Timmy sadly left us July 2, 2008. I think he was almost 16 years old. We think
about him every single day. Maybe this,
from the blog after he died, helps you think about him.
I got Timmy when I was dog-less and in grad school at UCDavis.
He was the saddest, most pathetic dog at the Yolo County Pound, where prisoners at the work camp next door try to sell you
Timmy is just the best dog. He was one of the first dogs
with his own website, back in the days of lynx and mosaic. No kidding. Me and Timmy should have been rich.
He lived with me on a packing crate when I um, secretly lived
rent free in the Davis art warehouse. He commuted to SF with
me and lived on couches and went to graphic design meetings
all the time. He helped me teach at CalArts and frolicked
in the Maclab there. He was part of a SF dog walker group
and loved going to the park with the pack. Everyone knew
him from Lighthouse Field and Its Beach, where he walked around daily
in Santa Cruz. Timmy rode with me
on the back of my bike in a wicker basket and been called
Toto by people on the street. He knew not to step on paintings
on the floor of the studio.
His agility consisted of going in the tunnel and sometimes
over a jump, and barking a lot when the other dogs took their
turns. Timmy wasn't exactly trained, he was just a good dog
all on his own. In his last year, our life now revolved around
keeping Timmy happy-I know the other dogs were out of shape,
as was I since he liked to walk with them and he can't walk
far. I have to sneak the others down to the beach. Timmy had
good days and bad days, we tried to make the most of his good
I have a tattoo that says Timmy, letters floating over a
lucky horse shoe. He will always be the best dog.